Dearest husband of my heart:
I am assuming you are one of the “great cloud of witnesses” written about in the
book of Hebrews. That you were privy to the ins and outs of the weekend our
beautiful granddaughter Tessa married Luke. That you smiled, and even shared
some of this joy with one of your heavenly friends, or Jesus, perhaps? Or even
that a whole contingency of those who have gone before, who loved us on earth
participated in celebration. Though I cannot know for sure I, still earth-bound, can
assume.
Did you see how rain slanted horizontal that Saturday afternoon and wind
whipped hair and clothes, how groomsmen in perfect sync kept us sheltered and
dry? Did you see the historic 2nd Presbyterian church, “late gothic revival” the
interior replete with a Tiffany window, a scene of Christ in all His ascension glory,
a glorious mural, somber interior colors, gold, crimson and russet, all of a piece?
Did you hear how the prelude began, sweetheart, Bach’s fugue in C Major, the
organ alive with Bach’s simple perfection. And did you listen when our dear
family friend, she of the soaring soprano (the one, Babe, who sang at your
memorial service) graced us with Amazing Grace?
Were you observing our walk, escorted to the front of the sanctuary by grandson
groomsmen, so strong and grown and capable? Remember how we sat on
endless bleachers to watch their basketball and soccer play? And how we loved
it? They seat us to Mozart’s “Water Music”. Bridesmaids come next in hunter
green, flowers profuse. Lilah, age eight, a junior bridesmaid, her bouquet held
just right with serious purpose and then Jackson age six, toting the ring in a
miniature suitcase, solemn, respectful as befits the occasion.
We stand, then, as “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” begins the processional. We
turn, and there she is, Tessa Kate on the arm of her father David. Did you see
how radiant she was? Did you remember how she called you Pops and how you
and she had a kind of sweet back and forth repartee, a relationship that was a
boon for you both, full of humor and knowing. She is a glowingly lovely bride,
relaxed and eager to be joined with Luke, the love of her life.
I am assuming, honey that you were praying all these months, as saints who
have gone before pray, for the hope that Dawn, her mother, our daughter would
be well enough to be a part of all this joy. And here she is in all of her blonde and
courageous loveliness, an answer to the prayers of saints on earth, yes, together
with prayers as they are spoken in heaven. This answer to prayer conveys an
underlying sense of gratitude permeating every nuance, every moment of
celebration.
Dear heart, I often wonder how sheer is the membrane that separates us from
one another, earth from heaven? In my ignorance I only suppose that you are
able to conjure all that happened in this beatific ceremony with a single thought,
a kind of seeing that eludes me here. Still, for my sake, bear with me. I need to
share.
Scriptures are read, the marriage rite proclaimed, the homily delivered.
Every part infused with meaning, holiness, commitment. Ave Maria sung from the
chancel, our friend’s bell-like voice transporting. Am I imagining that you are
rejoicing with me, rejoicing with a heavenly understanding I am yet to
experience? The minister stands behind Tessa and Luke, his eyes closed to the
music, transported too, into near-heavenly realms.
Finally, vows are exchanged. As a congregation we say the Lord’s prayer
together, using (“trespasses”), like you and I would say holding hands before
sleep, remember? And there is the DECLARATION OF MARRIAGE, the
benediction. The couple is introduced. Did you see their faces? How
full of happiness, how we clapped and relished this moment? I can only believe
you shared this with me, earth and heaven touching. Hearts touching, if not in the
physical sense.
I know you fully comprehend how nothing can eclipse the wonder of this day. Not
driving rain nor wind that buffets. For before God and “these witnesses” another
couple has been united “for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death
do them part.” I am assuming you are praying with me for all those we love, for
this new marriage, for each couple and grand child and great grandchild in their
challenges, their unknowns, their joys, their sorrows, for health, healing and
perspective.
Do you see that now we leave the stalwart structure behind, hustle under waiting
umbrella-ed groomsmen through rain and wind that has not abated, that only
brings a kind of excitement, a specificity of memory. And we are thankful.